Aftermath
by Sorrel
Summary: Xover with Buffy. Second in Points of Connection Series. PostSkin, Dean turns to Xander, sex and conversation are had, and Sam is jealous. Dean figures out a few things, and completely misses out on a few others. DeanXander, DeanSam UST. SLASH, incest.


**Aftermath.

* * *

**

Sam was sound asleep when Dean picked up the phone, conked out on painkillers. He'd gotten pretty sliced up by that fucking skin-shifter, but Dean knew that the exhaustion weighing down his brother was more from grief than the drugs that were in his system. Rebecca knew who he was now, what his real life was like, and though she'd smiled at him and patted his arm, Dean knew better than anyone that she'd never look at Sam the same way again. And that, he was sure, hurt Sam more than any knife wound.

The phone rang three times before it clicked and a familiar voice said, "Yeah?"

"Hey, Xan," Dean said, sighing with relief. He'd been worried that Xander wouldn't pick up.

"Dean," Xander said, his voice softening immediately. "Fuck me. I thought you got killed?"

"Skin-shifter," Dean answered. "I'm okay. Sam's cut up a little, though."

"Man," Xander said. "Glad you called. I'd already packed to drive up there for your funeral."

"Hell, I wanted to stay and watch it, but Sammy made me get out of town." He paused. "Hey, how close are you, anyway?"

"Well, when I said I was packed I probably should have mention that I'm about an hour away on the highway, shouldn't I?"

Dean rolled his eyes, even though Xander could see it, and tried to keep his relief out of his voice. "Wanna stop by?"

"Absolutely," Xander said. "Where are you, anyway?"

"About three towns north," Dean said, and gave him directions.

Xander grinned when he said goodbye- Dean could hear it in his voice- and hung up. Dean closed his own phone and stared at it for a moment, then headed for the showers.

Half an hour later, a fully-dressed Dean grabbed his wallet and keys and paused beside Sam's bed, hand outstretched to shake him awake. Sam looked so peaceful right now, painkillers suppressing his usual nightmares, and Dean hated to wake him up when he was so short on sleep as it was… But Sam would be right pissed at him if he woke up to find Dean gone, and Dean didn't know if he was going to make it back before dawn the next morning.

"Sammy," he said, shaking Sam's shoulder gently. "Sam, c'mon, wake up."

"Mmmhuh?" Sam said groggily, swimming slowly back into consciousness. "Dean? What's up?"

"Don't get up," Dean said, pressing down on Sam's chest to prevent him from sitting up. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm gonna be gone for a bit."

"Why?" Sam said, relaxing back. "How long?"

A man of few words, his brother. At least with Dean. "Meeting with a contact," he said, which was probably the simplest way of phrasing it. "I'll be back by morning."

"'Kay," Sam yawned, and rolled over. He was snoring quietly by the time Dean made it to the door.

He paused before stepping out, turning back to look at the man sprawled out on the bed. Sam looked so… Not young. No, definitely not young. Dean would probably have less of a problem if Sam looked more like a child and less like a wet dream.

Fuck.

He tore his eyes away from his brother and walked out into the cool night air, taking care not to slam the door behind him.

* * *

Xander found him at the bar down the street, nursing his one beer and feeling sorry for himself. He glanced up when Xander slid into the booth and stared at him with one concerned brown eye. 

"You sure you're okay?"

Dean found himself smiling. "Yeah, I'm okay," he said. "Sam got cut up a little, but he'll be fine in a week or two."

"I'd heard that he was with you again," Xander said. "Could I call it, or what?"

"Yeah, you were right," Dean said. "Not about that, though. Or did you miss the part where his _girlfriend_ was killed horribly and burned up in front of him?"

"No, I heard that too," Xander. "You pulled him out, didn't you?"

Dean stared at him for a moment. "Someday," he said finally, "I want to know where you get your information. The CIA would love to have you."

"Penny-ante stuff," Xander said, dismissing a major government organization with an eloquent curl of the lip. "And it's not that big of a deal. I know a Slayer who saved a guy, so on and so forth."

Dean shook his head. "Dude, I would give my right arm for half the intel you've got." He paused, considering. "Well, maybe my left," he conceded. "Wouldn't want to lose my gun hand."

"That might be problematic, in your line of business," Xander said. "And hey, I can feed you some stuff if you want. Most Slayers don't give a damn about possessions and hauntings, which, if I remember, are pretty much your specialty. Sound good?"

"Sounds great," Dean said gratefully. "But enough shop talk. You want a drink?"

Xander swept the bar with one disdainful glance, then looked back at Dean. "Not here," he said, making his opinion of the bar very clear. "I've got a room that has some actual liquor in it, some stuff that wasn't filtered through a cat. Sound good?"

Dean knew what he was offering. Then again, he'd known what he was asking when he'd asked Xander to come and see him, and it was pretty much exactly what he needed.

"Sounds good," he confirmed, and Xander sent him a dangerous grin. Dean grinned back, and Xander slid out of the booth and hauled him out after him. The firm grip on his wrist sent shivers down Dean's spine- Oh yeah, he remembered what Xander could do with those hands. And it was hella impressive.

"Come on," Xander said, standing too close. "I promise you a really good time… drinking."

"Right," Dean said, his voice suddenly too low. "A few… drinks… sound pretty great."

"Excellent," Xander said, and then grabbed his arm again and dragged him out of the bar.

Dean followed with a smile on his face.

* * *

Afterwards Dean fell into a light doze, sprawled out over Xander's wide chest. Most of the guys that Dean hooked up with were smaller than he was and he liked it that way, but Xander was a good three inches taller and considerably more bulky. Xander's pointed chin was tucked into his shoulder, and he could feel the other man humming as his fingertips lightly traced patterns over Dean's shoulders and back. 

"What are you drawing?" he mumbled into Xander's throat. "Feel like runes."

"They are," Xander said, never pausing. "Learned them when I was in Africa."

"What language?" Dean asked sleepily. Xander's chuckle vibrated through his body.

"Spike claims they're angelic, but I think he's full of shit. They're an old demonic language, actually."

"Only you would draw demon runes on me," Dean said.

"Good demons," Xander said. "They worked with the Slayer, once upon a time. Thousands of years ago, now."

"Long time."

"Yeah."

"What do they mean?"

"What, the runes?"

"No, the tea leaves. From the tea we don't drink. Yes, the runes." He wasn't so tired that he couldn't be sarcastic.

"Protection. Health. Love. Hope. You know, the basics."

"Oh." Dean thought about it for a minute. "Do they work?"

"I don't know," Xander said. "Probably. But I'm not really drawing them on you, you know. You've have to ink or scar them onto your skin for any real effect."

"I know that," Dean muttered balefully. "I was wondering if I should go get a few new tattoos. I could use a little of what they've got to offer."

"Couldn't we all," Xander said. "Are you really thinking about getting these tattooed on?"

"Nah, Sammy'd freak," Dean said. "Wouldn't want to scare off little brother."

"I doubt you could scare him off with a stick of dynamite," Xander said. "Didn't you say that the shifter cut him up? While looking like you?"

"Yeah," Dean said.

"And he still let you take him back to the hotel room and give him painkillers. That's serious trust, right there. Your little brother isn't going anywhere."

Dean was suddenly and completely awake. "I hadn't thought of that," he admitted. "I didn't really think about anything but getting him patched up and asleep."

"Well, start thinking," Xander said. His idle drawing had turned into petting, long sweeps of his broad palm up and down Dean's spine. It felt good, warm and calming, and Dean felt himself falling back closer towards sleep.

"I don't want to think," he said. "I want to fall asleep again. Sleep is good."

"So is sex," Xander said. "If you can manage to wake yourself up, I can probably go another round."

"Don't put yourself out," Dean muttered. "I'm good."

"Yeah you are," Xander said, and Dean could hear the laugh in his voice. "Practice a lot, do you?"

"Not enough," Dean said. "Can't, not with Sammy around."

"So practice with Sam," Xander said. Dean lifted his head up and glared at him balefully.

"We've been over this," he said. "Maybe I'm a freak and I want to sleep with my little brother, but Sam's not like me. He's all Joe Normal, remember?"

"Joe Normal never works out for people like us," Xander said. "I used to be Joe Normal. Then I went through several demons, an ex-demon, another demon, and Spike. I hunt demons for a living and occasionally freelance as a Watcher. See what happened to my normal?"

"It's dead and gone," Dean said. "Yeah, I get it. But it's not like Sam fell for the wrong girl. He was raised like this, and he still wants to get away." He paused, remembering something vital. "Wait. 'Went through?' You and Spike are done?"

"I was wondering if you'd catch that," Xander said ruefully. "Yeah, we're done. He hooked up with his Sire and they've been attached at the hip ever since. I was in LA with him and Angel setting up a new Council HQ when I got the call that you'd been killed. I didn't hear the circumstances until I was already on my way, or I would've known it was a shifter and not bothered."

"I'm glad you did," Dean said. "I was a little… Out of my head, tonight. You helped."

"It's what I'm good at," Xander said. "That and the orgasms."

"Well, you're definitely good with those too."

"You know it," Xander laughed, then sobered. "All kidding aside, I'm glad I was here too. I know what it's like, when things get all fucked up and you're on your own."

"Sam-" Dean started.

"On your own, because you have all sorts of conflicted feelings towards your brother and you can't talk to him," Xander continued over him. "I'll always be here for the aftermath, if you just call me. You know that, Dean."

"Yeah, I know," Dean muttered. "I also know that fucking does not a relationship make, so I have to wonder why you bother."

"Because you seem like you're worth it," Xander said simply. "And I'm not happy if I don't have someone to look after. Everyone knows it."

"Oh great, I'm a pity fuck," Dean moaned. "Just what I always wanted."

Xander smacked him lazily on the shoulder. "Shut up, you know that's not what I meant. I just like to help. And you, my friend, need some serious help. Like psychiatric help."

"Fuck off."

"Ah, such sweet nothings you whisper in my ear," Xander sighed. "Seriously, you're fucked up. You know it, I know it. And the person you've got the most issues with is the person you spend the most time with. Who wouldn't go a little crazy?"

"You sound like you have some intimate experience with it."

"Of course," Xander said. "And sometime, if you're very lucky, I'll even tell you about it. But I do know that it's useful to have someone to talk to when it gets fucked up."

"Who was yours?" Dean asked curiously. Xander made a face at him, and Dean grinned. "C'mon, I'm feeling lucky. Who was yours?"

"A guy who used to be the most annoying twit on the face of the planet," Xander admitted reluctantly. There was a smile on his face at the memory, though. "Ran into him one summer, though, and we ended up hanging out a bit. He went on to LA and joined Angel's crew and I went back home, but we kept in touch some. I drove up there a time or two when Sunnydale got a bit Hellmouthy. We even slept together once or twice." He paused, smiling to himself. "Good times."

"What happened to him?"

"He's dead," Xander said flatly. "Big epic battle, got taken out by a mage."

"I'm sorry," Dean said softly.

"There wasn't much left of the man I knew by then, anyway," Xander said.

"But you still miss him."

"Sure." Xander sounded surprised. "If he walked in the door right now I'd be the happiest man alive. But that doesn't change things."

"You've had a hell of a life," Dean said after a long moment. "It's easy to forget, the way that you act. If we competed for Shittiest Life, I'm not sure I'd win. And that's a pretty big first."

"The good times have been just as frequent as the bad," Xander said. "There might even have even been more of the good times."

Dean smiled bitterly. "Wish I could say the same."

"See, you might win at Shittiest Life yet," Xander said, then added seriously, "It can't be all bad, Deano. You've got your brother back, don't you?"

"Yeah, but he pretty much wants to be anywhere but here," Dean said. "How's that for fun?"

"Not very," Xander said. "But I know things'll work out."

"Oh yeah?" Dean challenged. "How do you know that?"

"I just do," Xander said with a little shrug that caused Dean to shift over his chest. "I have a sixth sense about these sort of things, I guess you can say. When it comes to relationships, I'm usually right."

"So you knew that Spike was gonna take off and join his Sire?" Dean challenged.

But Xander just grinned, slow and sweet. "_Oh_ yeah," he said. "Man, I saw that one a mile away. Everyone did."

"And you were with him anyway," Dean said, baffled. It wasn't that he couldn't understand meaningless sex, because he had that one pretty much down pat, but Xander and Spike hadn't had meaningless sex. He couldn't understand how you could sleep with someone you cared about, work with him, live with him, day in and day out, and know that the whole thing had an expiration date on it.

"Sure," Xander said. He seemed to sense what Dean was thinking, because his voice softened as he explained. "I wasn't in love with him, or anything. We were just friends. I knew he was in love with Angel, and that he'd eventually go to him. It was temporary, but that didn't make it a bad thing."

When Dean still didn't say anything, Xander added softly, "I'm doing the same thing with you, you know."

Dean lifted up his head and stared at Xander. "What?"

And Xander just smiled at him, maybe a little sadly. "You're in love with your brother," he said bluntly. "Someday, he's going to buy a clue and kiss you and then you'll be together and nothing will tear the two of you apart. Until then, I'm here when you need me- whether it's to talk, or get laid, or both. It's temporary, but that doesn't mean that it doesn't mean anything."

"I still don't understand," Dean said stubbornly.

"Spike and I are still friends," Xander said. "That's what makes it worth something. I'd hope that you and I can be the same way."

Maybe he did understand. He knew perfectly well that Xander was going to fall in love someday, and when he did that someone was going to fall right back. How could they not? If there wasn't Sam… But there was Sam, and always had been and always would be, and he wasn't even going to think about life without his brother in it.

But still. If there wasn't Sam, he would have fallen for Xander, like a two-ton stone. And maybe Xander would have loved him back, but probably not. And even if he didn't, he wouldn't have really had his heart broken, because Xander just didn't break hearts. He healed them. And that was what really meant something.

"We'll be friends," he promised. "I'm not saying that you're right and Sammy will eventually magically come to his sense and realizes that he's in love with me because I think it's pretty impossible, but if it happens, we'll still be friends. I can promise that much."

"Excellent," Xander said with a grin, and the sappy moment was over. But Dean wouldn't forget it, and what it meant. He had a lot to think about, sometime.

But not right now. Right now he wanted to sleep.

"You'll wake me up when the sun rises, won't you?" he asked, finally succumbing to the exhaustion that was nagging at him. He felt Xander's nod against the top of his head.

"'Course," Xander said. "Go to sleep. Things'll look better in the morning."

"That'll be a first," he muttered, but he let himself fall asleep, because Xander hadn't steered him wrong yet.

* * *

Sam was waiting for him when he came in an hour past dawn the next day. "Have a good meeting?" he said neutrally, with that fucking blank voice he used every time he was pissed now. Sometimes Dean had happy dreams of the times when Sam would scream and stomp around when he got pissed, like normal people. This controlled shit was annoying as hell. 

"Sure," Dean said. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it towards his suitcase, which he hadn't bothered to unpack the night before. "Very relaxing."

"Sex will do that to you," Sam said, a hint of anger creeping into his voice. Dean whipped around, hand on his belt buckle.

"The hell, Sam? What got your panties in a twist?" How the fuck did Sam knew what he'd been doing the night before?

"There's bite marks all over your neck and scratch marks across your back," Sam said. Like he'd been reading Dean's fucking mind.

"And I bet the bastard doesn't have a mark on him," Dean muttered, disgusted. Xander probably didn't either- he'd been so thorough with his patient assault on Dean that Dean hadn't been able to do much more than gasp and hang on.

"I thought you said you had a meeting with a contact," Sam snapped, finally letting go of his hold on his anger a little.

"I did."

"Is that what you call them now?"

Dean was getting just a little bid fed up with Sam's attitude. "I do when they're one of the Council's top operatives," he snapped back. "He was the one who tried to recruit Dad, and they wouldn't have sent anyone less. So back the fuck off, would you?"

But of course, Sam didn't just let it go. When had he ever? "The Council?" Sam repeated, questioning. Dean shot him a disbelieving look.

"It's a constant surprise to me that you're still alive," he said with disgust. "The _Council,_ Sammy. The most central group of demon hunters in the world. They work with Slayers, who in case you've missed this memo to, are super-strong girls that kill vampires and other nasties. Xander is a field officer, which means that he's one of the best hunters out there. Better than me, probably better than Dad. _Definitely_ better than you," Dean added with rancor. "Because he does his homework and he knows what the hell is going on outside of his own little miserable world."

It was the first time he'd really let loose on his brother since Sam had been back, but he didn't regret it. Sam was acting like a jealous girlfriend when he didn't know what the fuck he was talking about, and the most annoying part of it was that he didn't have a single, goddamned reason. "You have a lot of nerve, bitching me out for this," he added irritably. "I got laid _and_ I got us a case, which is more than you can usually manage, so please shut the fuck up."

Sam seemed actually chastened, which was new and different. "It's just…" he started, then stopped.

"Just what?" Dean demanded.

"It's just that I didn't know you were sleeping with a guy," Sam mumbled.

Dean stared at him in disbelief. "_This_ is what you're upset about?" he said. "Not that I was out all night, or that I'm marked up so now I'll stand out in people's memories. No, you couldn't get pissy about something _useful._ You're pissed because I'm fucking a guy and you didn't _know?_"

"Yeah," Sam muttered, a distinct blush visible on his face now.

"Well, shit, Sammy," Dean said. He sat down on his bed, completely unmussed because he hadn't touched it the night before, and laughed weakly. "I've known I was bi pretty much since I first started jacking off," he said. "I fucked around with guys just as much as girls. How the hell could you have missed it?"

"I didn't," Sam said. "I just didn't know that you were fucking _a_ guy, instead of your usual one-night stands."

"You're acting like a jealous girlfriend, you know," Dean said flatly.

Sam blushed again. "I know," he said miserably.

"Is there a reason?" he wanted to know.

"I-" Sam said, then stopped. "No," he said. "Not really. I just feel like I don't know you anymore."

"Well, that's what happens when you don't speak to us for four years," Dean said. "Things change. I met Xander a couple of years after you left for college, and we've kept in touch off and on ever since." Seeing the comment that Sam wanted to make, Dean added, "We're friends, Sam. Yeah, when we're in the same town we fuck, but we also trade tip-offs about demons and hauntings, and he's there when things get fucked up. That's what friends do."

"I thought that you said you didn't have any friends," Sam said. "That all you needed was your family." Was that jealousy in Sam's voice? Jesus.

"Xander is family, or near enough," Dean said. "He's stuck around. That makes him family in my book."

"Family that you fuck," Sam said.

"Something like that." Man, could this conversation have gone in a _worse_ direction?

"That's sick," Sam snapped. Dean dropped his head into his hands, unable to look at his brother.

_Of course it's sick,_ he wanted to scream at his brother. _If I weren't so fucked up I wouldn't want to fuck you, you moron. Xander doesn't hold a candle to what you mean to me._

But he didn't say that. He didn't even let it show on his face when he looked up at Sam again.

"He's family because he's been here, and he's never deserted me," Dean said harshly. "Which is more than you can claim, you dick. He's a friend because he helps out. He's a good fuck because he knows what he's doing in bed and he doesn't get all clingy and shit. If you've got a problem with any of this, I'd be happy to take you to see him, and you can take it up with him. I'll enjoy the hell out of watching him kick your ass."

"No problem," Sam said hurriedly. "It just sounded weird, was all."

_Sammy, you don't know the half of it._ But of course he didn't say it. There was a whole laundry list of things that he didn't say to Sam. Man, he missed when they were kids and were able to actually _talk_ about things. Sure, they talked about them at the top of their lungs, but at least they talked. Those were the days.

"Not weirder than you being a bitch about this whole thing," Dean said. "It's my life. And it's like you said, Sammy. You're my brother and I'd die for you, but I don't have to tell you everything."

"No, you don't," Sam said. "I just wish you'd tell me stuff like this, at least."

"After your little performance just now, I don't think so," Dean said. "I'll start sharing and caring when you start telling me about your nightmares and how they keep you up at night."

Sam just stood there, tight-lipped, and Dean nodded. "That's what I thought," he said tiredly, and stood up. "Look. I'm going to take a shower, and then when I'm out we're going to leave. That too complicated for you?"

"Where are we going?" Sam asked.

"Oregon," Dean said. "Xander tossed us a case." He unbuckled his belt and slid off his jeans. "Oh, and you're driving."

He wondered about Sam's blush as he wandered naked into the bathroom, but at the same time, he wasn't entirely sure he cared.

Xander was wrong about this. Sam would never think about him that way. And he'd never really get what he wanted the most.

Dean fucking hated his life.


End file.
